"Damn it! Damn these infuriating Azerothians!" Angry, genuinely unholy curses echoed throughout the underground palace, shaking the very dust from the ancient stone. "This disgusting trap! These annoying, loud monsters!"
This was the nth time Prince Malchezaar had roared in pure, unadulterated fury. When first descending into this dungeon, which was supposedly a dark temple for demons but felt more like a very aggressive theme park ride, he had brought in a total of five hundred personal guards. That was after leaving a sufficient number of troops to guard the gate, mind you. After sacrificing the lives of nearly a hundred (perfectly good) demons to the various pitfalls, Prince Malchezaar and his now-fewer companions finally navigated the impossibly long, trap-riddled corridor at the entrance and battled through the subterranean palace guarded by many powerful, unseen monsters. Under the relentless assault of passage traps and hidden monsters, they finally approached the outskirts of the desecrated temple, a place that felt suspiciously like a very bad idea.
A truly colossal, dark-green steel door, thick as a dragon's hide, blocked their way forward. The magic runes on the door seemed to have conveniently lost their effect, probably sensing the upcoming violence. A team of Demon Guards put away their double-edged axes, raised their thick, muscled arms, and began to push the iron gate with a collective groan. The door slowly, agonizingly, creaked open, emitting a sound like a thousand dying souls. The demons, sensing their master's urgency (and probably fear), rushed in like a pack of overeager, very stupid felhounds.
But what greeted them was not a weak, cowering priest. Oh no. It was a gargantuan mace, descending from the ceiling like an angry meteor, smashing into the ground with the force of a tectonic plate shift. A dozen eager Angry Guards were instantly flattened, reduced to very small, very unhappy puddles.
This mace was, in fact, the arm of a truly massive mechanical creature. Its sheer size was only outdone by the most conspicuous feature: a dark-red container on its chest, filled with a crimson liquid that pulsed with a strong, nauseating, bloody smell.
Malchezaar was absolutely incandescent with rage at this point. The unexpected appearance of the mechanical creature became his convenient outlet. He raised a trembling hand and unleashed a torrent of fel spells, bombarding it with destructive energy. As a talented new generation of the Eredar, he had already emerged as a rising star, even valued by the Triumvirate before Sargeras had even arrived on Argus. After embracing the glorious fel energy, he was completely different from before; a single fel energy arrow from him could directly shatter a mechanical creature weighing dozens of tons. This hunk of junk was going down!
The core of the assaulted mechanical creature roared, shaking its huge body, as if enraged. "You dare to challenge me?! You are courting death, you insignificant, squishy, fel-smelling insect!" The mechanical voice was surprisingly articulate, and its arrogance was palpable. Malchezaar's eyes widened. This mechanical creation actually possessed intelligence! This immediately reminded him of the Eredar's own former technology: the heavy-duty constructs. Those powerful mechanical giants contained the souls of great Draenei warriors and served as the eternal guardians of Argus, protecting the Eredar civilization. Could it be that the same was true inside this mechanical creature?
"What the hell are you?!" Malchezaar demanded, his voice echoing with genuine, horrified curiosity.
"I am the God of Thunder! The King of Kings, the God of Gods! The one and only!"
It turned out that he was once a tyrant of the Mogu people, named Lei Shen, the Thunder King himself. After being soundly defeated by Galen, he had been sealed (rather humiliatingly) inside a Mogu mental energy golem. However, Malchezaar, being a cosmic invader, had never heard of the Mogu, let alone the utterly embarrassing story of Lei Shen.
"You pathetic ants, dare to block the Legion's path?! Turn into ashes in my glorious wrath!" The Golem Lei Shen was equally unwilling to be outdone. He bellowed back, "Son of Will! Activate! Let's show these demons some real thunder!"
In the dark corners of the underground palace, neatly arranged small golems, looking like miniature versions of Lei Shen, were instantly awakened. Their eyes glowed, and they immediately launched a surprisingly coordinated attack on the bewildered demons at the door.
"Purge them! And try not to scratch the paint on the new cannon!" Malchezaar sneered, casting a disdainful glance at the huge, metallic guy opposite him. He didn't care about the mere lump of iron at all. He had to find the most precious body in the underground palace as soon as possible and then bring it back to Lord Kil'jaeden to claim his reward. Perhaps the body that Sargeras had casually created, which possessed only a tenth of his power, was a supreme treasure for those mere fel energy users below the true gods. Just as Archimonde had set his greedy sights on Nordrassil, the world tree that contained the vast energy of the Well of Eternity, Kil'jaeden also saw his opportunity to break through to become a true god.
An hour later, the arrogant Lei Shen, despite his lofty titles, had died again, and he and his small golem brothers became a very expensive, very dead pile of scrap metal. As a result of this glorious, but very costly, victory, there were only a few dozen Angry Guards left around Malchezaar.